To Be Loved
by CRyogenic-maelStr01m
Summary: Done for the kink meme. Prompt: "Oh, Feenie... If only there was someone out there who loved you." Rated for dark thoughts.


**Summary:** Done for the kink meme. Prompt: "Oh, Feenie... If only there was someone out there who loved you." Rated for dark thoughts.

Really liked this one, so I'm claiming it before I go sift through Part 24 for my older fills again. I kind of thought it looked better on the meme itself, though.

* * *

_How could any woman rely on you?_

The words, spoken mere hours ago, rang through Phoenix's head, over and over and over again. Miss Fey had offered to give him a ride home, but Phoenix had declined, opting to stay at the courthouse a little longer. "So I can get a little studying done, now that it's sure I want to be a lawyer," had been his excuse, but he knew full well he wouldn't be able to get anything done. Not with those words ringing in his ears.

_How could any woman-_

_- how could anyone rely on you?_

_- no one can rely on you-_

_- you're useless._

In one hand was a picture, a picture he normally kept in his wallet. It was an old one, originally developed from a disposable camera, then recopied at a smaller size when he got older so he could have it with him at all times. He stared blankly at it, not a trace of emotion gracing his features, a far cry from the boy (yes, boy, not man) wearing his heart on his sleeve that he'd been just that afternoon. The only evidence, in fact, of the turmoil raging within was the whitening of the edges of his fingernail bed, the trembling of his hand as he held the photo tightly between his thumb and the middle segment of his index finger, the scrunched up pink material of his right sleeve in his left hand.

(_I can't help him._)

The realization was sudden, painful; he was an art major. A _junior_, at that. He was a year away from getting his degree; to stop and fully switch gears to law now would be devastating. He was already in debt for his schooling; he'd spend that much more to drop his current major and prepare for law school, and then to actually go to law school and take the bar. And even supposing he didn't, that he merely studied law privately and took the bar exam when he could, who knew how long that would take? After all, art majors didn't exactly have the freedom many thought they did; he could only paint so much in so little time. And all the rest of that time was spent writing this or that essay from some general ed class. Even after he got his art degree, if he didn't find some steady job as a graphic designer or comic artist, he'd be struggling to find a customer so he could make ends meet. Especially seeing as his digital art skills were essentially limited to Paint and Photoshop; for the life of him, he hadn't been able to figure out Maya or 3ds Max in his animation classes, nor could he use Blender or any of the other various free forms of animation software when he tried them at home. Heck, he could barely even use Flash!

(_I can't help him. I can't even help myself._)

An oval stain appeared on the picture, slowly creeping downward, followed by another. His throat and his eyes burned, his heart clenching painfully. Phoenix set down the photo, laid it atop the table before him, face up, and held his head with his hands, elbows resting on either side of the photo.

Burning hot, salty tears dripped from his eyes, down his nose, to the photo, staining it further, causing the cheap ink to bleed as he did his best to hold back his sobs. If nothing else, he mused, at least he was able to keep them quiet.

(_She was right. I'm useless._

_How can anyone ever rely on me...?_

_How can anyone love someone they can't rely on...?_

_How can anyone love me...?_

_Why would anyone ever want to love me...?_

_Why did I ever think she could love me?_

_Why was I stupid enough to think she loved me?_

_I can't even do what I set out to do..._

_I'm useless..._

_**I want to die.**_)

* * *

He stopped outside the open doorway, having looked inside and seen the wreck sitting at the table.

(_That hair..._)

"Mr. Edgeworth! It's almost time for the trial!"

"..." His head turned and his heel lifted, preparing to continue on his way, as it was none of his business what the fool in pink was so upset about. However, a quiet, choked sob stilled him once more. It was the sort of sob Miles recognized, the sort of sob he would never admit to releasing on occasion after a particularly bad nightmare. The sort of sob that came out by accident, because its owner would rather not trouble anyone else any longer, but that would not matter once a plan was formed and set in motion.

It was the sort of sob that only happened when he was on his last leg, when he doubted his will to live the most.

A moment more he hesitated, fearing retribution from his mentor, but it was only a moment. This was not about a verdict, after all, and it would not jeopardize the one he needed to achieve today.

No. This was saving a life, in his spare time. Nothing more.

Decision affirmed in his mind, his heel returned to the floor. "One moment, detective. I've some time; wait for me in the lobby. There's something I need to take care of."

"Alright, then, sir..." As soon as the detective was out of sight, Miles made his move.

Quietly, he stepped in, reaching into his pocket for something he'd been allowed to keep all these years - though, it admittedly surprised him he still had it. He carefully slid the object between the pink-clad man's arms, laying it atop the tearstained photo.

"I am a prosecutor," he said quietly, when the other man appeared to finally register his presence, "and I despise defense attorneys. I have no use for this."

Red, swollen eyes peeked up to meet his as the man lifted his head in disbelieving surprise.

"It does, however, hold some sentimental value to me, shameful as it is to admit. I expect this back someday. Or, at the very least, put to good use."

Miles withdrew his hand, laid it on the other man's shoulder for a moment, then turned and left. He had a trial to win.

Phoenix looked down at the trinket left behind. It was old and a bit worn, but well cared for. He took it and turned it in his hand.

"26381," the engraving read.

_"I expect this back someday. Or, at least, put to good use."_

His hand closed around the trinket.

(_This is my last chance._)

"I'll put it to good use, Miles. I promise."

(_I won't be useless anymore. I promise._

_I'll save you..._

_And I'll_  
_become worthy..._

_to_

_ be_

_** loved**_

_ ._

_ ._

_ .__)_


End file.
